Behind Blue Eyes
by weskerscoffee
Summary: It's a few years after high school. Angela is now a senior in college. One night, while out celebrating a job offer with Sharon, Angela is reunited with Jordan. Angela is narrating the story in the first person. I tried to capture her insightful thoughts. I hope you enjoy! (MSCL, Angst, rated M, Angela/Jordan).
1. Chapter 1

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy!

I'm a big time "My So Called Life" and Jared Leto fan and could really get into writing the fanfic. However, I realize this show is pretty old, and wonder if anyone still follows it? So, if you like this story, I'd appreciate it if you left a comment. It'd be encouraging to write more if I knew people were wanting to read it. Thanks! =)

Note: A few years have passed since the end scene of the show and Angela is now a senior in college. You'll get a complete background of what happened in this story (did they get back together in high school? or did they go their separate ways?) Also, Angela is narrating it. I was hoping to capture her complicated thoughts.

Thanks for reading.

...

You know that feeling when you see someone from your past? Like, someone that was once so familiar… And even though they've been gone, their phantom presence still lingers in your life. Not so much that you are always thinking about them, but every now and then something triggers your memory. It could be a simple scent like the smell of smoke, and suddenly you get this feeling of emptiness or a tight pull in your chest. It's like that person is forever frozen in time, within your mind, exactly the way they were. Yet, in reality, time has got behind you both... You are no longer the people that you once were, but instead, you are simply strangers. Or perhaps, we always were strangers.

Over these last few years, I had laid awake many nights imaging how it'd be…no... how I'd be if I saw him again. I wondered if I'd play confident and tell him how great my life was going. Or would I confront him and tell him how awful he'd been to me? My most frequent, and pathetic thought, is the one where I walk up to him, but there are no words spoken between us… Instead, we kiss just as we had in the boiler room many years ago. The only difference is that I go all the way with him this time. In truth, I had often touched myself to such a fantasy. It was my fastest path to finding my release. It's funny, to me, how we romanticize something that was never meant to be. Assuming that things are so.

Yet, across the way, there he stands. It's not at all as I imagined. I am not riddled with fear nor am I confident. Rather, I feel an odd sense of comfort. I'm sure it's only because of the space and people that stand between us. He is mostly how I imagined he'd be. Maybe just a bit leaner and not as clean cut. His hair is still long though, and he still leans with that far off look. I wonder what he's thinking.

I was glad that I was free to observe him without being noticed. I wanted to take in who Jordan Catalano had become. Though, I know, you can't fairly judge that by simply looking at a person.

Luckily, Sharon was too busy dancing with some young handsome soon-to-be doctor (or so he claimed.) She had dragged me to this club to celebrate a job offer I had just received, from some well to do publishing company, despite still being a senior in college. I hadn't done much celebrating but had enjoyed watching Sharon. Still, it felt a bit lonely, and as I watched Jordan I felt it even more.

It's interesting how you can stare at a person with all these thoughts racing through you, like the blood coursing through your veins. Meanwhile, he has no thought or care of my existence at this very moment.

It was as if he had heard what I was thinking or suddenly felt my presence. Just as quick as that thought ran through my mind, his eyes snapped in my direction. Or perhaps he felt my lingering gaze upon him. Whatever happened, it didn't really matter now, those crystal blue eyes shot through me and instantly pierced my heart.

The feeling of calm, I had felt only moments before, had completely faded. I was overcome by an emotion I hadn't expected, sadness. My body was frozen, capture and bound within his stare, and my legs felt weak. I felt unwilling tears well up in my somber eyes. All I could manage to do was turn and make a quick escape through the web of people.

"Angela…" The only word that escaped him as I fled. His tone was low, but I heard it as clear as if we were the only two people in the crowded room. He wasn't calling out to me, nor questioning if it was, in fact, me or not... this I was sure of. Instead, I feel that my name spilled from his lips from the shock of seeing me.

By the time I had contemplated all the possibilities, I had reached the outside patio of the club. The breeze of the cool crisp fresh air helped calm my agitated state, but I still felt anxious.

Would he come after me? And would it be better or worse if he didn't? I wondered. The moon seemed to grow further and further away as I waited.

Those, that had been out smoking, had gone back inside, reappeared, and disappeared once again. He wasn't coming. All at once, I felt that he had hurt me all over again.

It's a strange feeling when someone has such a profound hold on you. And I couldn't help but feel it was unfair. Why did it have to be me that had formed the attachment? Why not him? Why couldn't he be the one standing in agony? He was always so calm and thoughtless. I hate him. I have always hated him. Words I chose to tell myself since I had never been able to say how I truly felt. But when you think about it, love and hate aren't so different. After all, both are driven by strong feelings for a person.

By this time, the cold wind no longer brought me any comfort, but rather a chill to my arms. Still, I couldn't bring myself to go back inside. What if he was still in there? More importantly, what if he wasn't? I was too afraid to face such a truth. So instead, I pulled one of the patio chairs from beneath the table and took a seat. Alone, I watched the bright stars flicker in the clear night sky.

"Hey." A voice appeared from behind me.

I'd recognize that sweet sound from anywhere, and for a moment wondered if it were real or a dream. Though my heart began to pump blood rapidly and my legs once again felt weak, I stood to face him.

"H-hi…?" My words came out in the form of a question because I felt we were beyond a simple hello. However, I had to remind myself that actually, we were now strangers.

"You changed your hair." His words were calm, but he almost appeared as flustered as I was.

At that, I laughed. It was just hard for me to fathom that Jordan Catalano was talking about my hair. "Well, my hair wasn't really red, you know? Looking back, it was a pretty awful color."

He let out a long sigh before he replied, "yes, I know."

I frowned.

"I mean, that it wasn't your real hair color. N-not that it looked bad." And for a brief second, I thought that I might have offended him by laughing. My worry soon faded by his next retort, "but I always liked it. The red went well with your gray eyes."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

An awkward silence passed between us, while our eyes stayed connected. The air felt thick. I sensed he wanted to touch me in some way, even if it was a simple pat on the shoulder. There was this, sort of, unseen energy that was trying to shorten the gap between us. In fact, it had always been there, since I could remember. However, he knew he didn't have a right to me, not even as a friend. In truth, we could never be friends, not then… and certainly not now.

"Uh, can we go somewhere? To...you know, talk?" His words almost seemed to be a plea.

"Well, I'm kind of here with a friend. You remember Sharon from high school? Sharon Cherski." My hand slowly pulled through my now ash blonde hair, a nervous habit I always struggled with. Then came my usual ranting, at which he smiled at.

"That's... cool." Though, I could tell it wasn't by his faded smile.

He's disappointed expression stung a bit, and I started to reconsider. After all, I had been outside for some time without her noticing. "I think she met someone. I mean, inside. So, maybe it'd be ok if I took off. Just give me a second to tell her, and I'll meet you in the parking lot."

My gaze had long broken from his. I just couldn't bear to look at his eyes. This very instant reminded me of when I once said, "you're so beautiful, it hurts to look at you." I had always felt that way towards Jordan. Just as I started for the door, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a tight embrace.

-end of chapter 1-


	2. Chapter 2

( Hello all, sorry for the wait... but thank you for leaving me reviews. They really pushed me to finish up this chapter! I hope it is worth the wait. Also, let me know if you are interested in a chapter from Jordan's perspective.)

It wasn't like it is in the movies. Jordan didn't take possession of me in one quick swoop. Instead, it almost seemed unhurried. Before he had made himself known to me, I felt I was drifting in a sea of my own thoughts. Now, I was captured on a line, hooked, and he was reeling me in. It was as if he knew, that if he moved forward with haste, that I'd slip away. So, he proceeded with caution, by slowly pulling my body into his. And just like that, I was captured and breathless.

It wasn't until then that I realized... we could never be strangers. No matter how many years got between us, our past would always be there to haunt me. Just waiting. Waiting for us to pick up exactly where we left off. We had unfinished business to a conflict that could never be resolved. Our relationship was cursed to spend an eternity in limbo. Neither moving forward nor going back. And right now, all I could do was surrender to his embrace, for it was a small comfort to such a cruel fact.

My thoughts were consumed by this idea of how extraordinary it was that someone could affect another so deeply. But also, how terrible it was at the same time. You see, I felt I was floating in that endless sea and Jordan was my life preserver. Right now, I was tightly secured within his arms, but it was inevitable that his grasp would soon be broken. Fate would swoop in and pull me back under the toxic tide. Again, I would be left with only a memory, which tends to stick with you like a bad dream you can't wake up from. Even so, my forehead was blissfully perched on his shoulder. His coat still smelled the familiar scent of motor oil and smoke, but the aroma of his skin and hair was that of birch mixed with lavender. I knew this was just another memory that would one day eat away at me. Yet, I couldn't help but want more from him.

What is memory anyway? With memory comes this idea of truth. Surely, my truth was different than Jordan's. His account of the past must be skewed and distorted… just as my own account was. I couldn't even lie to myself about that simple fact. I had always romanticized certain truths...searched for meaning in things that were meaningless. If I was being honest, I would have to admit that I was always seeking reason. Anything that would explain or even excuse another's ill behavior. Not just with Jordan, but also with my dad, my friends, and even strangers. The only person who didn't get this mercy was my mother. Perhaps, it was because I felt she was as close to perfect as a person could be. I wanted to find faults in her, even where there wasn't one.

As these thoughts were bouncing around in my head, Jordan had taken my hand and led me back into the club. Without even knowing the words that I, myself, had spoken… Sharon was telling me goodbye. Her expression was filled with both curiosity and worry. I could feel her eyes upon us as we walked out the door. I knew what she must be thinking, but a part of me didn't care.

…

A twenty-four-hour diner… a refuge for many. Such a place is where teens can escape the bonds of childhood and authority at 2 AM. Where the intoxicated come off their choice of drink or drug. A place for the homeless to get warm on a cold night. Also, this fine establishment was the place I unwillingly found myself on most nights. I didn't have the heart to tell Jordan that I worked here.

The sound of the bell, that I had learned to tune out, seemed deafening when we walked through the door. Jordan had barely spoken on the way over. He had always been distant... lost in his own mind. In that way, we were alike. However, I couldn't stop myself from saying my thoughts out loud. Suddenly, I feared the bright fluorescent lights would give away my fatigue, and the rambling began. "So, I kind of got this offer for a copy editor position, but I'm not really sure if I'm going to take it."

I felt like his eyes were looking through me, and my heart began to race. I knew it was just my very vivid imagination, but I couldn't manage to meet his gaze. All that stood between us was a sticky table, a bottle of ketchup, and an empty napkin dispenser.

"Why not?" His tone was soft and calm.

"Well, to start, it's in New York and I still have a year left in school. So, I'd have to finish my degree at another University… Not to mention, I don't even know if I could do both. The job isn't flexible. It's an eight to five kind of commitment. But mostly, it's that- I'm afraid that doing such monotonous work will kill my love for writing." I couldn't take it anymore, I had to look up...had to see if he was listening to me. Jordan wasn't looking at me at all. Instead, he was watching the nighttime sky through the glass window that was marked with both fingerprints and condensation. I couldn't help but stop and admire him. Marvel at the beauty that was Jordan Catalano. He was as mysterious as the vast onyx sky.

"I think New York would suit you, Angela." A small grin pulled at his lips. "But, maybe I am saying that for selfish reasons." At last, his light blue eyes struck me like a thousand arrows, but this time I couldn't look away. "What is it that you do here in Pittsburgh?"

Before I could even answer, the waitress, named Sue, walked to the table and gave me away. "Angela! I never expected to see you here on your night off. What can I get for you and your- friend?" She even threw in a little wink, at which I could have died.

"I'll just have a coffee. Thank you, Sue." As the words came out, I felt myself nearly sinking under the table. Even though I was actually hungry, coffee was the only thing I could think to order. Jordan also ordered a coffee, and I couldn't help but wonder if he still took it black.

A sudden realization hit me like a surge of water. I hadn't completely processed his words until that moment, and perhaps it was too late to dig into them… but I couldn't stop myself. I felt like I had discovered some sort of hidden clue. One, that he had willingly offered. "What did you mean selfish reasons?"

His hand moved to rest on his chin, and his thumb was positioned just below his upper lip. Just as he was about to speak, Sue came back with two cups of coffee in white mugs. After placing them on the table, she reached in her apron for a handful of those little cold packs of creamer.

Jordan watched as I put two creams and one sugar in my coffee. "You've changed, Angela Chase."

His words caught me off guard, and I nervously watched the white cream blend with the hot black liquid in swirls. "How do you mean?" I hid behind my cup as I took a sip, and couldn't help but be worried about what he might say.

"You use to take your coffee black with-"

"Three or four sugars..." The palm of my hand moved to hide my growing smile. "Well, I only did because you use to make coffee for me and that's how you liked it. You introduced me to so many new things, Jordan Catalano." I teased.

He reached over and took my hand away from my face. "I'm sure you have that backward." And just like that, we were connected by flesh again. His calloused fingertips grazed down the full length of my hand, and he gently caressed my palm with his powerful touch.

When you think about it, touch is such a strange sensation. Yet, it is a thing that people just do. It's this basic human need, like breathing. Feeling another's touch can be calming, alarming, or even intrusive. Such a feeling can bring you to ease or make your heart race. I was certain that Jordan's touch somehow did both of those things.

"So, are you just in town visiting?"

"Yeah, my band is playing at that club tomorrow night. I thought I'd just go and check it out…"

"Where are you staying? I mean, I know that you and your dad don't exactly…" You know that feeling when you realize that you are saying the wrong thing, but you still have to make it to the end? I know that feeling, all too well. Often, I had wished I could stop myself before I even started. "Well, get along. Sorry- it's just that I was wondering how close you were to me or the old neighborhood. You know my parents sold our house a few years ago? After their divorce... So, someone else is there now." I couldn't stop myself once I started. My words just continued to get heavier and heavier. "Please, say something," I thought.

"No, I'm not staying with my dad. I haven't spoken to him in awhile. I didn't realize that you knew all that… How did you?"

"How couldn't I?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I always liked your mom, Patty. I spoke to her on the phone once. I mean- after I left. She was nice."

"Spoke to her? About what?"

"You. I know I left kind of suddenly. I just wanted to make sure…"

With haste, my words intervened. "To make sure of what?"

"That you were-ok."

"I can't believe this. She never told me." It was just like me to blame my mother, and not the truly guilty one.

"I asked her not to."

"Then, I can't believe you." It's simply devastating when a beautiful moment turns bad. Sometimes a conversation can get so derailed that it's impossible to get back on track. Often, I would try to think back to the words that had turned the sweet moment sour. I liked to imagine what would have happened if things had been steered a different way. Perhaps then, our night would have been perfect, but it hadn't. Jordan and I had never taken the easy straight course. Our way had always been full of sharp turns and dead ends. Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, my hand pulled away from his and I stood. "Did she tell you that I wasn't? That... I wasn't ok? Did she tell you, Jordan? The truth, I mean."

He nodded.

"I should go."

"Angela… wait."

My back was already turned and I headed for a quick escape. I didn't see him throw down a twenty dollar bill; nor did I see his troubled expression, those deep blue eyes as wide as the open sea.

"Angela...stop." He nearly yelled when he rushed out the door.

I couldn't help but do as he commanded, for I never liked to hear Jordan in pain. It was hard enough for me to believe that he had emotions. At times, all I wanted to do was witness them, be it, good or bad.

"At least let me give you a ride back to your car." Jordan huffed.

"I rode with Sharon." My voice had grown cold.

"Great, then I'll take you home."

"Fine." Before I knew it, I was settling back into that old Plymouth. Red ran just as good as the day Jordan had let me drive it. The very thought made me a little jealous. It was clear that Jordan had always taken exceptional care of his car. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't take the same care with me? I suppose it's a silly thing to be jealous of an inanimate thing. Therefore, I had to remind myself what this car must mean to him. It was an escape from his old life, absolute freedom. I recalled the boy with the unraveling shirt sleeve. Growing up, he didn't have the love that I did. In my heart, I knew that was why he had left. Now, I noticed that his shirt was perfectly intact… no longer coming apart. At that, all my anger faded and I felt happy for him. "Hey- I'm sorry for taking off back there. I just think we have a lot to talk through."

"Does that mean you're going to invite me in?"

"We'll see..." This thought of having him in my apartment made me feel anxious. It wasn't so much being alone with him as it was being exposed. By that, I mean, he was totally open to witness who I had become. My apartment was left in its usual order, not the way you present it when you have company. Not like, when you spend all day cleaning and pretend it's always that way, but also claim that it is messy. It seemed a little unfair, that he'd see me so bare. Yet, I didn't even know which city he lived in. "Jordan, where do you live now?"

His eyes glanced over as if to witness something. "New York."


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again, I was happy to receive some responses to my last chapter. Thank you! I decided to go ahead and write a short chapter through Jordan's POV. I admit it was a little more challenging, but I think it set up some interesting things for Angela to respond to. Also, I feel that I should mention, this chapter dives back into the past. So, it takes place at the start of the next school year (after the show's final scene.) I hope you enjoy! Side note, I am going to see 30 Seconds to Mars on Tuesday, yay!

...

I once knew a girl with shocking red hair. The world around me was this sort of… mechanical thing. It ran on its own, but every now and then something would break. I couldn't fix it, for fear of being a tool. Through a sideways stare, I could see her mending this hard baggage as if it were made out of cloth. At times it was clear that she could use a hand. However, what was I to do when I, myself, needed to be restored? If I was a machine than she was organic… soft, vital, and unfamiliar. I felt disinclined to engage with her invasive intrusions. A part of her was fragile, like glass, and a part of me wanted to break her. I was afraid she'd get inside me...start to patch my torn sleeve. How could I sit behind the wheel in idle if she insisted on going somewhere? And once we moved forward, where would we go?

Back then, I could never have written these words to her.

…

1995

Ah, the first day of school...it's like this long big day. There is this constant pressure, like expectations or something, of what other people think you should be doing. Meanwhile, I was just sitting in my car trying to decide if I wanted to go through it anymore. The sound of my engine starting helped me to decide. Just as I put the gear in reverse, there she was. I hadn't seen her much that summer. Surely, she was on her way over to scold me. Without a single thought, I had reached over and opened the passenger door. I suppose I had let her in after all. As I rested back in my seat I sighed, while she leaned down.

"So, like, are you really ditching on the first day of school? Aren't you the least bit curious about your classes?"

"Not really."

"Well, were you even going to say hi?"

"Hi."

"You're impossible."

When my gaze finally met hers, I noticed a bit of red in the corner of her eyes. My hand clenched a fist when I realized that she was about to do that thing, where she walks away. I couldn't stand to see her leave, but I was too proud to admit that it was because I was afraid. Afraid, she'd go somewhere… like a place, I couldn't follow. "Get in."

"Are you serious? You just expect me to get into your car whenever you ask? Well actually, you didn't even ask… It's was more of a demand."

"Please?" I had learned that Angela couldn't say no when I asked like that. A smile pulled at my lips as she climbed in, but I could tell that a lecture was coming on. So, I spoke first, "so, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong? Nothing- is wrong."

"Then why are your eyes all red?"

"I don't know, allergies… I guess."

"Allergies? So, what you allergic to? Sunlight?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Angela, you don't have to lie to me. You could just say that you don't want to talk about it."

"Fine then, I don't want to talk about it. It's too depressing."

I knew that wasn't true. She had to talk about...things. The truth was, she couldn't handle not saying what was on her mind.

"It's just that when you're a kid…" A sigh escaped those pink lips that I had lost the right to. "You just have this sort of idea about your parents… about love. You don't really question it. Instead, you assume that they were meant to be or something and that they always will be. Now, I'm starting to question the whole idea of it all. I don't know if I believe that true love really exists. It's like, just a fairy tale that people tell you to make themselves feel better. Maybe people just need each other… until it gets old or they find someone else. So, that's what's bothering me." The car went silent for a few moments. "Sorry- my parents are probably finalizing their divorce and it's kind of a nightmare at home right now."

For some reason, her words sort of stung. I couldn't help but feel like she was saying that she didn't love-. "Well hey, if it makes you feel better… I never even thought my parents loved each other." My hand crept into my pocket and pulled out a half-empty bottle of eye drops. I needed an excuse to be close to her...to touch her.

"No thanks, I can never manage to put anything in my eyes. Besides, it's half-full... I wouldn't want you to waste it on me."

"Hold still." Just like that, my weight was leaning on her. "Now, look at me and don't blink."

"Don't blink? How can I not blink?"

But, she didn't. Angela just stared at my careful movements as I put the solution in her eyes. My rough hands wiped away the bit that ran down her warm cheeks. "If you want, I can start picking you up in the mornings… So, you don't have to ride the bus. Maybe I could come inside when everyone's gone, and we could have-" I leaned in close enough to kiss her, while my hands webbed into her soft hair. "Coffee."

"Coffee? Oh... sure. My mom and Danelle are usually gone before 7 anyways."

"So, tomorrow then?" I asked as my fingers gently combed through faded red strands. My gaze stayed locked on her lips.

"Uh, yeah, tomorrow… Look, we should really get to class."

"Yeah, ok." After grabbing my backpack, we walked in together. Her small hand was firmly in my grasp.

…

Present time

I couldn't help but take her silence, to my reply, as being underwhelmed. Perhaps, it wasn't only the job that wasn't enough for her. Which made me wonder, what had Angela Chase been up to these past few years?

To be continued... thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

1995

This morning, I overheard my mom talking to Mrs. Cherski on the phone. I couldn't help but wonder what was up with the term, "they stole my happiness?" As if happiness is something you can steal, like a bag of jewels. I suppose happiness is precious and all, but does that mean we aren't in control of our own happiness? That I am not in control of myself? People always feel they should offer you their free advice, but they are mistaken to assume you actually want it. Often, my mother had told me that I was only in control of myself and no one else. But, how could I be? If someone could take that away from me… if Jordan could.

So, he wanted to come in for coffee. Did he really mean just coffee? Or was it code for something I was too naive to understand, like sex? To be honest, I didn't even know which I wanted him to mean. We hadn't kissed since he gave me that letter. The one that was actually written by Brian Krakow. We weren't a couple, but we weren't only friends either. Or were we, just friends? I had spent most of my summer with my neurotic grandmother, while my parents tried to work things out. It had been oddly easier to be there than home. But, now that I was back, everything was confusing and hard. It's not like I could just ask Jordan Catalano if he wanted to be my boyfriend. I didn't even know if I wanted to be his girlfriend, but really... I did. I wanted everything from him, even his happiness.

"Angela, you're going to miss the bus. Your sister is already gone." She looked tired. My mother once said she couldn't sleep without my father beside her. It was kind of a nice thought, even if the idea of my parents in bed, like together, turned my stomach. The fact that it hurt to be away from someone was a romantic notion... unless they weren't coming back.

It's a strange thing when you don't recognize a person you've known your entire life. Unlike me, she had always been perfectly put together. My mother had followed the same rituals since before I was even born. A well-balanced meal with a proper night's sleep was the key to looking your best and staying young. This was her mantra. Now, she wasn't eating or sleeping at all.

My hands reached down and started to clumsy tie my shoe. The only thing was…it didn't really need to be tied. I just found it hard to look into her sad eyes, at her bare face. "Well, Jordan kind of offered to start giving me a ride...You know, so I wouldn't have to take the bus anymore."

"Oh, did he? Does that mean you are a couple now?"

"Mom, of course not. We're just friends." My hand smoothed through my hair as I stood awkwardly.

"Ok, well if anything changes... promise you will at least tell me."

"Whatever." I couldn't help be think how boys had it so much easier. When you are a girl, there is this pressure to have a boyfriend. And if you don't, you are like abnormal or something. But, at the same time, if you do then it automatically means your innocence is at stake. Meanwhile, boys are told to play the field and are even celebrated for having sex. I know they have their own struggles, but why does society pit us against one another? It was almost like we were meant to live among each other, which didn't seem right. Then there are all these terms, like normal for instance. What is normal anyway? When you think of history, weren't all the artist, poets, and inventors all judged or even prosecuted for being different? It's amazing how little things have actually changed. Ok, I'm not saying they are as bad, but that doesn't mean we have to like stop evolving or whatever. My body leaned against the kitchen counter, the same way he leaned. Sometimes, when you are around a person a lot, you can't help but pick up some of their habits or traits. I wondered if Jordan even knew any of mine.

"Angela?"

"Well, it's never going to happen! Aren't you late?"

She sighed. "Yes, and I probably won't get home until after nine again. Could you please make sure your sister eats dinner?"

"Fine." I hated to be so short with my mom, but I didn't want to give her a reason to pry. She always pried. After she left, my eyes wandered over to the coffee pot. It was empty. Such a simple thing was kind of upsetting to me. I couldn't remember a morning where it hadn't been made. I suppose my dad normally prepared the coffee, but he wasn't here. A statement that seemed unfitting for our family. That's when it occurred to me- I had never made it myself. As I was fumbling through the cabinets looking for filters, the back door clicked open. Jordan didn't even knock, but just let himself in. I couldn't imagine waltzing into his house unannounced. Also, I had never actually been inside his house, which seemed kind of unfair. "Hey, sorry… I didn't realize that my mother hadn't made coffee this morning. My dad normally does, but as you know…"

Before I knew what was happening, my words were cut short. He always did that, but I didn't mind as much anymore. His strong arms wrapped around my waist. Jordan had cornered me against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter. "So, we aren't then?" His hair was slightly damp, and I could smell his shampoo.

"Aren't what?" No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold back a smile. It was like Jordan had this power over me, and every time we touched… I lost the ability to refuse him.

"A couple?" A chill pulled through me as his warm hand ran down the full length of my arm.

My body betrayed me, and I could feel my cheeks turn a hue of scarlet. "You heard that?"

"Well, are we or not?" He asked calmly as if staring into my eyes was easy. But, I didn't want it to be easy. For once, I wanted to see him being the vulnerable one.

"I don't know. Are we? I mean, don't you usually go on dates or whatever...if you are a couple?"

"Dates?" Those rough fingertips brushed against my cheek, and I couldn't help but press my face into his touch. "So, what do you think we do?"

"We?" A nervous laugh escaped my parted lips. "Don't we just hang out? It's not exactly formal."

"By formal, you mean I should wear a tie or something?"

At that, I chuckled. "No, but would it be so bad?" I couldn't help but stare at his lips. At that moment, I thought I was ready. I wanted him. No, I needed him to make love to me, to show me that I had been wrong about true love. I wanted him to contradict my statement, but he hadn't. Not yet. _Kiss me now-_ the only thought that consumed my mind.

"Not if you looked at me like that." Jordan leaned in a bit.

"I am looking at you... like that." My eyes fell shut at the sudden feeling of his lips against mine. His tongue took advantage of my parted lips and invaded my mouth. An intrusion I welcomed by massaging my own tongue against his. Those steady hands roughly grasped my hips and lifted me on top of the counter. The heat rushed from my face to between my legs, when I felt him pressed against me. I needed something to fill this sort of emptiness that was within me. My hands shook as they made their way down to his jean's button.

"Angela…" His hands clasped around mine, and he eased back. It was a rare thing to see Jordan smile, like witnessing something cosmic. I caught a glimpse of it before he left a tender kiss upon my forehead. After doing so, he moved away and began to brew the coffee. "How do you take it?"

Jordan had left me breathless. Marked- by the lingering feeling of his lips on mine. My heart was pounding out some unfamiliar tune. The harmony was so beautiful that it hurt. "Take it? I-I don't know. I guess the normal way. I thought you knew that I've never…"

His thick brows pulled together as he looked back at me in a state of confusion. "Never had...coffee?" A grin suddenly pulled at his lips as if he had realized my mistake.

"Well, yeah…" I tried to play it off and watched as the hot liquid suddenly burst into the pot. A bit of steam seemed to escape from the lid of the coffee maker. "I mean, I have had a taste, but I don't really know how I like it."

"Are we still talking about coffee?"

"Yes, I'm definitely talking about it." I paused. "Coffee, I mean."

"Angela, let me just make this clear. I'm not going to sleep with you, ok?" His tone had grown a bit firm.

Just like that, I felt my world crashing down. For once, I was silent. I wanted to yell at him… but the words had escaped me. Jordan had actually refused me. I didn't understand. What had changed so fast? Why didn't he want me?

Composed, he handed me a cup of black coffee with three or four sugars. It was both sweet and bitter, much like our relationship. Assuming… you could even call it that.

To be continued…

(Thanks for reading. The next time I post, I will continue this bit AND take it back to the present. )


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